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The Book of Leviticus is not a favorite
among biblical readers. If it’s any indication, Hollywood hasn’t
recreated any scenes from Leviticus, like it has from Genesis and
Exodus. But for all its talk about sacrifices and bodily effects,
Leviticus has a lot to tell us if we lift the ancient rituals out of
their ancient settings and dust them off for relevant lessons.

To begin, in Near Eastern cultures of the time, sacrifices on altars
were brought to feed gods that were represented by statues of deities.
People brought them animals, grains, and oils, among other gifts. In
contrast, we learn in Torah that animal and grain sacrifices were
brought by Israelites to create a link between the One God, God’s
people, and the world. The priests facilitated the process, for which
they were compensated; but, it was the presentation of the sacrifices by
the Israelites themselves to the priests that was the most precious
gift because their personal sacrifices drew them closer to God. The
Hebrew root of the word, korban, means "to draw near” or "to
draw close.” Unlike the English translation, "sacrifice,” which suggests
losing something in the act of offering, a korban enabled the Israelites to draw nearer to God’s justice and mercy.

In ancient times, Israelites were commanded to bring the best of
their flocks and herds "without blemish” for animal sacrifice (Leviticus
3:1ff). Their offerings, specifically prescribed, represented
thanksgiving, forgiveness, atonement from sin, freewill offerings, and
so on. Perfect atonement, for example, was granted with a perfect
offering; but, the complex expectations unraveled when errant Israelites
failed to keep God’s commandments and priests failed to perform their
duties.

In the Book of Malachi (fifth century BCE) God admonished the Israelites:

"Where is the reverence due Me? — said the Lord of Hosts
to you, O priests who scorn My name. But you ask, ‘How have we defiled
You?’ By saying, ‘The table of the Lord can be treated with scorn.’ When
you present a blind animal for sacrifice — it doesn’t matter! When you
present a lame or sick one — it doesn’t matter!” (Malachi 1:6ff)

But, it did matter very much. God made clear to the Israelites:

"I will be tender toward them as a man is tender to a son
who ministers to him. And you shall come to see the difference between
the righteous and the wicked, between him who has served the Lord and
him who has not served Him.” (Malachi 3:17-18).-

It was an early warning for the priests and the sacrificial cult.
Ultimately, the Temple in Jerusalem, the centerpiece of the Israelite
sacrificial cult, was destroyed by Roman legions in 70 CE, and the role
of prayer in synagogues, which was already unfolding, took hold.

But perhaps more than the sacrificial cult remains lost forever.
Consider that in each person’s choice of animals for sacrifice was an
intimate concern to bring something perfect and pleasing to God; it was
borne in the physicality of carrying their animal to the High Priest for
sacrifice. It wasn’t necessarily more meaningful than bringing one’s
prayer directly to God, as we do. But it concerns me that the duty to
pray is not felt as heavily in our hearts as it once did in their hands.
Prayers lack physicality. We’ve traded the burden of our hands for the
duty of the heart that now conveys prayer within and beyond us.
Supposedly, we’re more advanced; therefore, we’re supposed to make our
prayer before God more intellectual (personally chosen with
understanding), but also more spiritual (offered with intentionality and
purpose). At best, a worshiper offers prayers with similar intimate
concerns to come close to God with an "offering” that is perfect and
pleasing to God.

To enrich our prayer experiences and ensure their outcomes, our
Rabbis built layer upon layer of nuance into the meaning of our prayers.
The personal expectations that Moses experienced with God aren’t unlike
our own expectations when we approach God with our prayers. In a
midrash, we are taught:

R. Nehemiah expounded the verse (Psalm 18:26ff) as
referring to Moses. When he approached God with special courtesy, God
treated him with special courtesy; when he came to God with frankness,
God answered him with frankness; when he approached God with lack of
directness, God countered him with lack of directness; when he sought a
clear statement regarding his affairs, God made clear his affairs for
him. (Midrash Rabbah, Vayikra 11.5)

In the midrash, Moses showed "special courtesy” to God when he said,
"Oh, let me behold Your Presence!” Then, God decided to show Moses all
God’s glory (see Exodus 33:18-19). Moses showed "frankness” when he
said, "Why doesn’t the bush burn up?” (Exodus 3:3) and God answered,
"the place on which you stand is holy ground.” Moses showed "lack of
directness” when he said: "When I come to the Israelites ... and they
ask me, ‘What is His [God’s] name?’ what shall I say to them?’ ” God
said to tell them, "Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh [I am that I Am]” (see Exodus
3:13-14). When Moses sought a "clear statement regarding his affairs,”
God said, "I will send you to Pharaoh, that you may bring My people out
of Egypt” (Exodus 3:10, see also 4:13, 5:23, 6:1).

God doesn’t reject our prayer offerings, either. It’s just as we’ve
been taught to say, "Praised are You, Eternal our God, Who hears prayer,
shomei-a t’filah” (T’filat Haderech; Psalm 65:3). One
remnant of ancient sacrificial practices, perhaps, is the importance of
our intentions when we enter into prayer. Like the Israelite who
brought an offering without blemish, we should strive to bring our
prayers without blemish, too. Shabbat, in particular, is our day for
worship to thank God through rest and prayer. Prayer in our house of
worship, Sabbath rituals at home, and bodily and emotional rest are ways
to bring our best to God. Today, in song, poetry, or prose, there is
nothing more perfect than bringing what we bear in our hearts to share
before God, alone.

The last portion of Exodus
is a double portion, called Vayakheil-Pekudei. It recounts the completion of
the construction of the Tabernacle, the dwelling place of God’s presence during
the Israelite’s wilderness journey. Under the watchful eyes of contractors,
artisans, and Moses, himself, it was completed on time and on budget. In fact,
there was so much collected by the community that Moses had to order the people
to stop giving. In my opinion, it was the last time in Jewish history that a
capital campaign was ever completed with such outstanding results.

At the end of the project and near the end of the Torah
portion, we read, "These are the accounts (records) of the Tabernacle, the
Tabernacle of the Pact, which were drawn up at Moses’ request…” (Exodus 38:21).
Rabbinic commentators pointed out that, though Moses was a man of extraordinary
faith and whose business was above reproach, he requested an accounting to
demonstrate that even he, a man of such faith, was a man of duty before the
people.

Our Sages taught that in communal finances one should
never give the responsibility to fewer than two or even three persons; yet
Moses was given sole charge of all contributions. But as soon as the Tabernacle
was finished, Moses, out of his own choice, had an audit made; hence "These are
the account (records) of the Tabernacle…” (Exodus Rabbah 51:1).

When I was a boy, I often volunteered on Sunday mornings
in the Temple’s religious school. Every Sunday morning, each class collected tzedakah,
and it was the job of the religious school office volunteers to go around to
each class and pick it up, count it out, and record the totals. I’ll never
forget that my rabbi assigned another young student and me to go together and
collect the tzedakah from each classroom. I never felt that he didn’t
trust my friend or me, but it didn’t occur to me then that he was honoring an
old but important Talmudic lesson.

My friend wasn’t Moses and neither was I, so it stood to
reason that "no fewer than two” should go to each classroom and make the
collections. Indeed, when we returned to the religious school office, we sat
together, opened the small bags (pushkes) and envelopes and counted the coins
(there were never dollar bills). Then we tallied the results and put the coins
in a cash box with our paperwork. Only later did I come to learn that the rabbi
followed the Jewish lesson, which made for a "kosher” accounting of the day’s
collection and relieved us, the two errand boys, of any questions about our
work.

The Talmud lesson also made it clear that a collection,
properly done and accounted for, made for a "kosher” project, over all. How
could it be, the Sages reasoned, that God’s blessing could be manifest in a
Tabernacle if it were built from bad business dealings or shady accounting?
What kind of a house is that for God? What kind of house is that for anybody?

When we build a home for our family, we affix a mezuzah
on the doorpost. As we do, we recite a verse from Psalm 127:1, "If God doesn’t
build the house; its builders toil in vain.” If we build a house from bad
business dealings and shady accounting then it’s rotten at its core. It won’t
stand, and it won’t support the family that dwells there. But, if God builds
the house, that is, if good business, proper accounting and honest work provide
for its completion, then it’s a house worthy of God’s blessing and its occupants
will be blessed, too.

In all that we do, let reverence for God’s teachings (Jewish
values) guide our decisions and actions. The results should go well with us and
those who are touched by the work of our hands.

We
have MUSIC! During Cantor Star Trompeter’s installation services last Friday
night, I had the overwhelming sensation that the music we’ve come to know and
love at Congregation Beth Israel is here again to stay. For a moment, I closed
my eyes when she sang and during the duets she shared with Cantor Roslyn Barak,
her mentor, who came to participate in her installation, and Rabbi Adrienne
Scott, whose voice is equally beautiful. The rich sounds I heard elevated the words and enabled me to feel the
prayers rise higher than ever. When I opened my eyes, I saw others who closed
theirs, too. Music elevates the words we read in the prayer book and also the
words we hold in our hearts, and now music has become a large part of how we
feel about Jewish life across the campus.

Music
at Beth Israel can be heard in the sanctuary or Gordon Chapel every Shabbat.
With an ensemble every Friday night, we enjoy engaging and participatory music.
Familiar words or just "la-la-la” connect us to our faith, our friends and
ourselves. Sacred music, it turns out, isn’t high and distant; it’s very close
to us and we feel it every week.

Music
at Beth Israel can be heard on Sunday morning in the Gordon Chapel. Cantor
Trompeter leads musicians, including Rabbi Chase Foster, who plays guitar, and
welcomes children to join her on the bimah. They’re learning fun songs; the
children run to be with Cantor Trompeter.

Music
at the Shlenker School can be heard every weekday. Cantor Trompeter is
beginning to focus on music curricula and goals for music appreciation at the
day school. Like MBJLC, we share aspirations for their knowledge of Jewish
music and the way it can endear them to their faith and heritage.

Congregation
Beth Israel is known for being relevant, modern and joyful; but, it can’t be
all these things and more without music. Jewish music is relevant when its
chords and melodies resonate not only the golden ages of cantorial music, but
also contemporary rhythms and sounds of today. Jewish music is modern when it
freely adapts to musical trends and even fuses modern music with ancient
liturgy. Jewish music is joyful, and we know that it is when we feel it move
our hearts and souls, and also our hands and feet.

As
we look forward to Cantor Star Trompeter’s "Beautiful Shabbat,” a fusion of
Carole King’s hits and Shabbat prayers, on March 23, 2018, we also look forward
to more of her kind and friendly manner. Please come to know Star, for
yourself. As you do, you’ll also come to know the power of music and the ways
it can lift, inspire and empower you.

To
listen to last week’s Shabbat Service when Cantor Trompeter was installed, go
to YouTube, and search for "BethIsraelHouston” to find the service from
February 23, 2018. You’ll enjoy it as much as we did in the sanctuary. I might
just listen in again, too.

As
Shabbat comes again and we anticipate a new week, let’s make room for music in
our life. Let’s make room for Jewish music we can sing and feel, together. Congregation
Beth Israel, we have MUSIC!